Blame the Weasley Family
by GlowingRed
Summary: The whole Weasley family seems to be conspiring against Hermione to bring out her inner vixen, both intentionally and not. Welcome to Citrus Falls, readers; caution – it's slippery here.  FW/HG/GW .


_**A/N: **_**This was a writing exercise that got a little carried away. Of course, if you look at my other stories, when have I ever been able to write a short one-shot? If you enjoy it, don't forget to review; I shamelessly thrive off the things. :)**

**_WARNING: The following story contains highly descriptive consensual sex. If you are underage, please hit the back arrow on your browser._  
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** ~XxxxxxxxxxxX~**

The first kiss was decidedly Ron's fault. He was more than a little tipsy, despite his slurred claims and wild hand motions to the contrary. During an inebriated game of drunken debauchery (Hermione couldn't even recall the game), she had accidentally admitted to having kissed no more than three people in the two years since she had left Hogwarts. Ron, always the sensitive prat, had laughed until he fell off his stool, only to sit on the floor and grin at her like an idiot.

"Really, 'Mione? You can't be serious!"

"Perfectly," she answered, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. A sober Ron might have caught the warning signs of a once-too-many-times-provoked Hermione, but a drunken Ron was another story. "I won't apologize for not feeling the need to hurry after a new conquest starting promptly when the sun goes down each day. I'm not _you_, Ron."

Ron grinned at her from the floor. He had neglected to bring a date to their small party, and Hermione suspected Ginny had asked (or more probably threatened) he not bring another blonde slag traipsing through their home; Ron likely only acquiesced because it was his little sister's birthday. It was a rare thing, however, seeing Ron without a giggling witch attached to his arm. He was enjoying his status as a hero of the wizard world just a little too much, in Hermione's opinion. While Hermione used her status as a war hero to promote her campaign for equal rights extending to all magical creatures, Ron preferred to use his popularity to charm his way into the bed of any and all willing witches. As Harry had just recently announced his engagement to Ginny, the number of willing witches available to Ron had sickeningly increased, as well.

"I don't remember you being _that _bad at it," he slurred with another laugh.

"Ron!" Ginny hissed, pulling out of Harry's arms to glare at him menacingly.

Hermione felt herself growl more than she heard it, and she issued a warning: "Shut up, Ron."

Sirius chuckled from his leather chair across the room. "I'd listen if I were you, Weasley. Granger wouldn't hesitate to hex your balls six ways from Sunday."

Ron was still grinning lopsidedly at her. "Do you even remember how it's done?"

"Ron," she hissed low, her eyes narrowing to slits.

"No, really, 'Mione," Ron continued, oblivious to the rest of the room watching him with expressions varying from anger to slight fear for his well being to unabashed amusement. "Hogwarts was two years ago. I'd dare you to go snog some bloke, but I don't think you remember how to—"

Hermione had been through enough. She normally tolerated his gentle teasing, but Drunk Ron tended to forget to be gentle and just prodded her mercilessly. She wasn't having it. Throwing her most withering look at the berk, she turned to the man sprawled out next to her on the couch, brought one hand up to his jaw, threaded the other through his hair, and yanked his mouth toward hers. They met with such force Hermione was momentarily surprised their teeth didn't knock together unpleasantly; after several hot kisses, she plunged her tongue past his lips, clashing fiercely with his own. She was distinctly aware of Ron sputtering in righteous indignation across the room as her lips glided over the man's in a hot, public display.

Ron finally found his voice. "Stop snogging my brother!"

Hermione snickered as an evil grin that would rival the Weasley twins' wound its way up her face, finally pulling away and opening her eyes to seeing Fred Weasley grinning at her like the cat that caught the proverbial canary. She had known she was sitting between the Weasley twins on the small couch, but she hadn't taken time to think which one was on her right side when her temper had finally snapped. She blushed lightly, removing her hands from his person and putting distance between their faces. "Sorry about that."

"Never took you for an exhibitionist, Granger."

She rolled her eyes and pushed gently against his chest as he fell back into the couch. Beside her, George slung his arm over her shoulders. "Hey. Where's my love, Granger?"

Groaning quietly, she clambered off the couch and over to the liquor cabinet in Sirius' lounge, making sure to kick Ron squarely in the thigh along her way to commandeer the bottle of Firewhiskey. Taking a very large drink, she gathered herself and continued back to the couch to once again throw herself down between the Weasley brothers, taking another large drink before offering Ogden's finest to Fred.

Across the room, Sirius was still chuckling. "If that's her response every time someone pokes fun at her, we should do it more often. What do you say, sweetheart? That couch is big enough for a fourth, right?"

Hermione shot a particularly crude hand gesture at the devilishly handsome marauder laughing at her expense as she stole the bottle from Fred before he even had a chance at a drink.

**~XxxxxxxxxxxX~**

The second time she blamed Charlie. Or Bill. She wasn't certain who was more to blame for the presence Daniel Hayworth at Charlie's engagement party. The party had been Mrs. Weasley's idea; Charlie couldn't expect to invite any Muggle's to his real engagement soiree, so a separate party for all of their Muggle friends in Ottery St. Catchpole seemed quite fitting. Daniel Hayworth, who lived in the house closest to the Weasley's, was a year younger than Bill and a year older than Charlie, and, as such, had spent a large portion of his childhood in their company, running around the countryside that separated their homes. The three were thick as thieves, despite not having seen each other since before the wizarding war began. Hermione could tell as she approached the group, the three boys roaring with laughter at something she hadn't heard. She painted on a pretty smile as she approached and rested her hand on Charlie's arm.

"Charlie, it's so good to see you again! Congratulations!" Hermione greeted, squeezing his arm once in excitement.

Charlie grinned down at her. "Thanks, 'Mione. It's good to see you, too. How's work treating you?"

"Wonderful," Hermione intoned. She had traveled to Romania the year previously to do research on some new dragon legislation she had been hoping to draft, and Charlie had not only been accommodating, but incredibly interested in her work. "We're finally getting that wer-uh – wolf legislation," Hermione caught her slip, her eyes flitting momentarily to the Muggle in their presence, "I've been working on for the last few years to the higher ups. We're hoping to get it pushed through within the next two months."

"Hermione's interested in wildlife too, Dan," Bill informed his friend with a wide grin. "Hermione, this is Dan. Lives just down the road."

"It's a pleasure," he responded, reaching to take her hand and gently kissing the backs of her knuckles. The small smirk on his lips reminded her of the look Fred and George wore when planning something devious. "I completed my schooling recently to become a veterinarian. I work with injured wild animals as opposed to domestic; we get them back to health and then release them back out in the wild."

Hermione nodded her head, raising an eyebrow as Bill and Charlie slipped away most inconspicuously, leaving the two strangers to become better acquainted. "Oh, that's interesting. I work with endangered species, I suppose."

And try though she may to politely end their conversation, the man was intent on speaking with her about everything under the sun. He was obviously trying to garner her attention in a more than platonic manner, but he didn't seem to catch her subtle hints at being uninterested. Every time she tried to excuse herself to say hi to a friend or to get a drink, Dan was suddenly there again, offering her a drink or charmingly introducing himself to her friends. Hermione only managed to slip away under the guise of visiting the restroom. When she shut the door to the Burrow's kitchen, she leaned against the frame and let out an incredibly long sigh.

Someone across the room chuckled. "Having a good night, Granger?"

Hermione opened one eye to watch George shut the fridge and stand to his full height. He was grinning at her, and she wondered if he hadn't already spent part of his night laughing at her obvious discomfort. "That man is persistent."

"Aw; he's just friendly. What's wrong with that?"

She groaned and pushed herself away from the door, heading to the sink for a glass of water. "He's more than friendly and you know it, Weasley."

George chuckled behind her. "And he seems to be unsatisfied with whatever your recent excuse was for leaving his presence."

Hermione's head shot up to find Dan walking across the back garden; George was right – his destination certainly seemed to be the kitchen. Hermione cursed softly. She was slightly bolstered by the knowledge that Molly had taken extensive care to remove all overtly magical objects from the kitchen and lawn, but the way her night was going, she thought she might actually support using a memory charm on a Muggle this once. "What's he planning to do, follow me to the loo?"

"Want help throwing the lion tamer off your trail, 'Mione?"

Hermione spun around, finding George's eyes glowing with amusement. Normally, she didn't promote the use of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products on unsuspecting Muggles – automatically assuming his train of thought – but she thought she might be willing to bend her rule this once. She was hesitant, but nodded slightly. "What are you thinking?"

George looked behind her at the window, seemingly watching as her intended suitor approached the door. Hermione heard his footsteps approaching and wondered if George had waited too long to help her with whatever plan he was thinking up. She fleetingly considered ducking into the cupboard under the sink in her desperation. She was utterly surprised when he took two long, fast steps toward her and pinned her against the kitchen counter with his hips; two rough hands slid through her hair and she found herself for the second time in three weeks kissing a Weasley twin.

And Lords above was it different. While Fred had nearly exploded with passion, his teeth and tongue turning her lips raw in a matter of seconds, George's was the most sensual snog she had ever experienced. His lips were like silk as they slid smoothly over hers; his tongue barely touched hers before darting away again, only to reappear and trace gently over the corner of her mouth. In the back of her mind she knew this was just for show, but that didn't stop her hormones from doing a little jig behind her eyelids and chanting for more. Hermione hadn't even noticed the door open until Dan coughed, obviously surprised. Hermione's eyes shot open, only to find George had never fully closed his; he was watching her under a heavy, half-lidded stare. She reached up to gently push him backward and turned to the newcomer. She smiled; she was certain her cheeks would burst into flames from the heat underneath them. "Oh. Hello, Dan."

"Hi," Dan greeted awkwardly, running a hand through his already messy, sandy blond hair. He gave the pair a small smile. "I came in for something, but I seem to have forgotten what that was. Suppose I'll just head back outside, then."

When the door shut behind him, Hermione turned back to find George still watching her. She smiled slightly, one eyebrow raised. "Thanks, I think. He's gone now, though. You can let me down."

Hermione gestured to her nearly sitting position against the counter, but George only smirked. "What if I don't want to?"

"Um." Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly. She brought her hands to his chest and gently pushed again; this time, he allowed her to move away. "I wasn't kidding when I said I had to use the loo, so I'll just be back down in a bit."

Muttering her excuses quietly, Hermione slipped out of the kitchen and up the stairs of the Burrow. When she reached the restroom, she didn't even pause as she spun and Apparated away to her room.

**~XxxxxxxxxxxxX~**

The third time was Percy's fault – completely Percy's fault.

One month after Charlie's engagement, the Weasley clan, might-as-well-be-Weasleys, and all significant others had gathered in the Burrow to meet Percy's new girlfriend, Audrey Brown.

Hermione had never been so bored. She had thought that Percy could not possibly find a more boring subject to discuss than cauldron bottoms, but, Merlin's underpants, he had done it. He had spent the last ten minutes regaling the family with tales about his most recent report on the importance of the redesign of the cases used to store wands before they chose a witch or wizard. The rest of the family had been able to slip away over the ten minute time period, but Hermione, being unfortunately sandwiched between Percy and Audrey on the old couch, was still stuck listening to him prattle on.

"So that was when we realized that the crushed velvet being used in the lining of the cases is actually not as effective as a silk lining. We've contacted Ollivander and the few other minor distributors around the country about the potential change, but we've encountered some resistance from distributors from other countries! They're saying the velvet is cheaper than silk, and if they have to make the switch, prices will go up."

Hermione nodded and hummed, attempting to break Percy's speech. "That's to be expected. I'm sure your department will handle the resistance wonderfully, of course. If you'll excuse me, though, I'm feeling a bit parched."

Before Percy could object, Hermione vaulted up from the couch and scurried for the kitchen doors. She had just crossed the threshold when she ran directly into two very solid shoulders. She nearly toppled over, but caught herself against the now closed kitchen door. Looking up, she found both the Weasley twins grinning at her. She sighed. "If Percy tells me one more benefit of silk over velvet, I'm going to toss myself off the roof."

Fred grinned. "Don't do that, Granger."

"Yeah, we would miss your pretty face," George continued.

"And delicious body," they chorused together.

The two shot her identical grins, and she pointedly rolled her eyes. She was about to comment on their lewdness when she noticed they were carrying three glasses filled with amber colored liquid between them. With a great sigh, she reached for the second glass in Fred's hand and threw it back without prelude. The fire whiskey burned her throat, but it settled nicely in her stomach a moment later. She closed her eyes and groaned. "That was needed."

"Uh, Granger?"

Hermione opened her eyes. Upon noticing twin looks of horror, she immediately returned her gaze to the now empty glass. It looked as it had before. She looked back to the twins, settling her hands on her hips. "What did you two do to me?"

"Well, admittedly, it was supposed to be for Percy," George began.

"Yeah, but you took it without asking."

Hermione's eyes flashed between the two. "Let me reiterate: what did you do to me?"

George and Fred exchanged a quick glance before setting their own still full glasses on the table; each twin grabbed an arm and immediately started tugging her toward the stairs. "As much as we appreciate a good prank, Granger, I think we value our manhood far more."

"Certainly. Don't want to poke the bear now." Fred nodded. "We'll just take you upstairs, get you cleaned up, and no one will be the wiser. Eh?"

"What did you do?" Hermione asked, her voice much less threatening now that she knew whatever prank had been played on her was about to disappear.

"Ah, just a little charm."

"Paints your face just a tad."

"All in good fun."

"Doesn't come off with water, of course."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Removal potion's in our room, though."

"We're only giving it to you because we love you, Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes as they reached the second floor and the twins ushered her into their old room. "And because you don't want to be on the other end of my wand."

Fred and George audibly swallowed on either side of her.

She found herself standing the middle of the room, Fred bouncing anxiously next to her and George rummaging through a box on the floor. It didn't take him long to find the purple bottle he was looking for. He conjured a small towel from a book on the floor and poured a small portion of the bottle's contents onto the corner. He moved toward Hermione, intent on helping to wipe away the ridiculous face she was painted with, but she jumped a mile away from him when the towel touched her skin.

"Holy hell, George!" she yelled. "Where was the warning?"

Fred and George gave her identical confused looks. "Warning for what?"

"Just how bloody cold that was going to be!" Hermione answered, rubbing at the skin on her cheek where the towel had touched her. "It's like ice."

They shared another look before Fred reached for the bottle and dabbed a bit of the potion onto his pinky. He winced. "She's right, Forge. How did we miss that?"

George shook his head. "No idea, Gred. We'll try brewing it again. What do you think? A couple of mints leaves might fix it?"

"I was thinking frog's breath."

Hermione cleared her throat loudly.

George stepped toward her again. "Whoopsie; sorry about that, Granger. Let's go again."

And he did try again, but the moment the cloth touched her skin, Hermione jumped away from him with a yelp. She was eyeing him warily. "Are you sure that's the only way to get whatever is on my face off of it? How long would it take to brew again? Possibly try to make it a little less torturous?"

The twins shared a look – George nodded and Fred stepped toward her this time. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her down to sit on his lap as he perched on the edge of a bed. She landed with a small _oomph_ and turned to glare at him. He grinned at her. "You wouldn't stand still. This way, you can't get away."

"Right then," George answered, his voice much closer. Hermione turned her eyes away from Fred to see his twin hovering closely in front of her, the cloth poised to attack once more. He reached toward her, brushing the material over her cheeks; Hermione hissed through her teeth, her face turning away to hide in Fred's conveniently placed neck. He chuckled above her.

Hermione kept her head buried and her eyes shut tightly as George work the towel over her face. After two minutes of continuous attack by the freezing cold potion, she was startled when, instead of the icicle solution, warm fingers ghosted over her cheek instead. She turned her head quickly, finding George to be even closer than he was before. Behind her, Fred's arms snaked tighter around her waist and she gasped loudly when warm lips pressed to the sensitive skin just below and behind her ear. George's fingers continued to move over her cheeks; her nose; her brow line; her lips. He had just tilted his head forward to do something Hermione reluctantly thought she might not say no to when someone banged loudly against the door. Hermione gave a startled yelp; in her attempt to jump away from the two red heads, she ended up flat on the floor, rubbing her bum and cursing again.

Ginny twisted the knob and was standing in the room a moment later. She eyed her brothers warily. "What did you do?"

"Prank gone awry," Hermione answered from the floor, shaking her head as she pushed herself off the floor. "They were just fixing the mess."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Right. Well, mum wants you, Hermione, to help her with the pie. She said no one does it like you."

Hermione gratefully accepted the hand of her unknowing savior and followed Ginny from the room. "Of course, Gin. Of course."

**~XxxxxxxxxxX~**

Regardless of Ginny having saved her from what Hermione had later convinced herself would have undoubtedly been a mistake, the fourth time was certainly Ginny's fault.

Harry and Ginny had been planning their respective stag and hen parties before their wedding, but they changed their plans at the last moment; they were too enamored with one another to need 'one last night of freedom,' as Ron had so delicately put it. So, they merely combined their parties into what was rumored to go down as the party of the year. Nearly the entirety of Harry and Ginny's years at Hogwarts (including a fair share of Slytherins) had turned out at the largest wizarding nightclub in England, Ménage à Trois.

Hermione had arrived at the establishment fully intent upon only having a few drinks, catching up with a few friends, and then returning to her comfortable room at Grimmauld Place to slip underneath her comfortable sheets. She had been doing a terrific job, too, until Ginny played the do-it-for-the-bride-to-be! card and Hermione had been sucked into a Muggle drinking game with Ginny, Luna, Padma Patil, and Daphne Greengrass. After downing far more glasses of brilliantly colored glasses than she originally planned, the old schoolmates had been pulled away by various friends and partners. Hermione had stayed sitting on her barstool, accepting another dark drink from the bartender, who she thought might have been making eyes at her. She had only taken two drinks when two redheaded monsters popped into her vision.

"'Mione!" Fred roared above the noise of the club.

"Glad to see you!" George stated excitedly. He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

Fred extended a hand to her. "Dance with us?"

Hermione took another drink to forestall her answer, momentarily looking out over the crowd of writhing bodies. There were so many people packed into one space. A moment of doubt flitted through her, but the alcohol was dancing in her veins, and it was making her body want to dance, too. Finishing off the rest of her drink, she nodded. "Why not?"

"Brilliant!"

They each took one of her hands and pulled her from the stool, dragging her into the mess of people on the floor. She brushed against person after person, some she knew and others she didn't, as Fred dragged her along. George bobbed after her, completing their strange little train. Fred finally found a place he deemed suitable and pulled her the rest of the way; not used to wearing such high shoes and a bit unsteady from the alcohol, Hermione toppled the rest of the way, landing against Fred's chest with a muffled squeak. She felt George slide behind her a moment later, and then they were moving.

The twins danced like they lived – energetically and without reserve. Her sensible side might have been embarrassed had she actually been able to take a look at their erratic, lively display. Although not normally a dancer, Hermione felt her inhibitions slip just a little as she swayed sandwiched between them. She had never danced like this; the Yule Ball had been a much more formal affair, and Luna was usually Ginny's second on girl's night, not Hermione. She felt her bottom pressed firmly between George's hips and her hands rested on Fred's chest, which tightened as he moved against her; she decided then she enjoyed this strange Muggle style of dancing.

It wasn't long before the song changed, and Fred took the opportunity to sidestep and bring his leg between hers. He continued moving, and Hermione let out a surprised moan at the new contact to her core; her forehead dropped forward onto his chest. She couldn't help it as she moved her hips in time to the beat, each time her center dragging deliciously against Fred's thigh. George's fingers drew lazy circles around her hips and his lips were suddenly suckling that spot below and behind her ear.

It was Fred's turn to watch her closely, still moving against her. She watched him with half lidded eyes, as well. When he leaned forward, she expected similar ministrations to the sinful ones his twin was performing on her collarbone; he surprised her when his husky tone washed over her, lips just barely feathering over her own.

"We've been watching you for a while, Hermione." She was surprised at how well she could hear his low tone over the loudness of the club. "And we've decided you're far too beautiful for your own good."

"Bloody gorgeous," George growled from her side.

"I think," Fred began quietly. "Ginny is too thoroughly intoxicated to notice if one her bridesmaids slips out for a bit. What do you say, love?"

She couldn't think. With George nibbling and licking against her veins as if he could draw the very life out of her with his lips, and Fred's eyes burning a hole through her logical defenses, his tongue occasionally peeking out to wet her lips for her, her brain seemed to have packed up and gone on holiday. The alcohol was making her head spin. The loud music vibrating through the floors and up her legs was making it difficult to stand. The flashing lights were setting her on edge.

Suddenly, some dancing, spinning couple bumped into their trio and they jostled to one side; Hermione's brain must have jostled into place as well. She gasped, drawing a much need breath of cold air into her lungs – she wondered when she had forgotten how to breathe. Her arms pushed out to either side. She stumbled back, bringing both of the twins into her vision. She looked at the pair together, squeaked like a mouse, and Disapparated on the spot.

Landing spread eagle in the center of her bed at Grimmauld, she groaned – so much for Gryffindor courage.

**~XxxxxxxxxxxX~**

After Ginny and Harry's engagement party, Hermione took a week off work and traveled to Australia to visit her parents, where they had chosen to stay and open a dental practice after the war's end. She spent 6 days lying on a beach chair, taking in the sun, corresponding with Ginny about last minute wedding details by owl, and drinking as many fruity cocktails as she could get her hands on. At the end of her mini-vacation, she had vowed that she would absolutely not let Fred and George talk her into any more debauchery – there was nothing to be gained from entering into _that _sort of relationship, thank you very much.

Her trip out of the country, however, must have addled her brain – she had forgotten how persistent the Weasley family could be. She spent the next few days at Luna's under the pretense of preparing for the wedding because Fred and George had taken to showing up at all hours in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, setting off the loudest, most obnoxious of products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes so she couldn't possibly ignore their arrival in her home and stay locked tight in her room; of course, Sirius and Lupin, who had picked up quickly on the situation and found the whole ordeal exceptionally amusing, were doing nothing to help her – mischievous pricks.

She should have realized that with the four biggest pranksters on the planet all conspiring against her, she didn't stand a chance.

The fifth time was the fault of Remus or Sirius; she never decided whom, because, if she was perfectly honestly with herself, it was probably her fault, too. She would never admit it, but she had bought her dress for Ginny's reception party with two devilishly attractive red heads on her brain – a form fitting little number that looped loosely around her neck, leaving her back coquettishly bare.

The wedding went off without a hitch. The groomsmen and bridesmaids were all dressed impeccably, and Ginny and Harry couldn't have looked happier. The music, provided by Luna, tinkled through the air throughout the ceremony, and even Molly managed to contain her flood of tears until after the pictures had been taken. The reception started with a bang, Ron giving an eloquent toast no one in his family or immediate friend group had expected, followed by a huge fireworks display from Fred and George.

Nearing midnight, the brightly colored fireworks were still bouncing around in the corners of the room. Hermione and the rest of the remaining guests gathered around the doors to wish Harry and Ginny well on their honeymoon; many of the guests, with a last loud hurrah to the couple, drifted back inside to keep the party going. Hermione followed, intent on finding one of her two flatmates. She quickly located Remus lounging at a table with Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"I think I'll be heading back now. I'm exhausted." As if her body and her mouth worked in tandem, a large yawn slipped; she covered it with her hand before grinning sheepishly at her friend. "Just wanted to let you or Sirius know."

"Not sure Sirius or I will be back tonight," Remus confided, suddenly focused on swirling the contents of his glass.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Nothing of concern. I'm sure you'll find something to do with the house to yourself." He looked up at her then, and she could have sworn his eyes twinkled. "Enjoy your night, 'Mione."

His strange goodbye threw her for a loop. She raised an eyebrow. "Er, right. Night, then, Remus; Kingsley."

Retiring to the cloakroom, she located her purse before queuing up for the next available fireplace. It only took a moment; soon, she was swirling away, and landing with only a small stumble (the inventor of heels could burn in an internal Fiendfyre, as far as she was concerned), to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. With a flick of her wand, the candles jumped to life, illuminating her path through the hallway.

She was nearly to the third floor landing when a whooshing sound made her ears perk – someone else had come through the Floo. There were a precious few people keyed in to use their Floo without an invitation, but, knowing half of those keyed in were currently on honeymoon, Hermione couldn't think why anyone would be coming through after her. Perhaps she had forgotten something in the cloakroom?

She pulled her wand, frowning as she started back down the steps.

"Hello?" she called, nervously casting an unnecessary, habitual look to the spot on the wall where the portrait of Walburga Black had hung dauntingly until only a few months ago.

She had made it to the second floor landing when a flaming head of hair came into view at the bottom of the steps. Her first thought went to Ron, as he was one of the few keyed into their System, but then she realized this figure wasn't quite as tall. In her moment of gaping confusion, Fred had jumped the stairs two at a time, and reached her. He backed her into the wall with a heartbreaking smirk.

A million questions ran across her mind, not the least of which how he got in, and where was his brother, but she couldn't decide which she wanted to ask first. She finally settled for an exasperated sigh. "Oh, really!"

"Evening, Granger," he greeted her genially.

She glared at him. "Where's your marginally less evil half?"

"That stung," he answered, although he didn't look at all hurt by her remark. "Don't know. He was right behind me when I left."

"Ah, only a matter of time, then," she answered, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "Don't suppose I could ask for some room to breathe?"

"When I've got you all to myself?" Fred tipped his head forward and took a deep breath, the smell of her exotic, spicy shampoo invading his senses. "Where's the fun in that?"

She grit her teeth together as he grazed his own along the sensitive skin of her neck. She wanted – no, _needed_ to keep her mind clear. "How did you get in?"

"Flat mates," he grunted, latching onto her soft earlobe.

She hissed, a noise somewhere between annoyance and satisfaction, suddenly remembering Remus's dismissive excuse for not returning to their home. "They were in on it!"

"You can't avoid us forever, love," Fred murmured in response, trailing kisses along her jaw that had her gasping and clawing her short nails into the wood panels along the wall – she refused to find purchase on the arms encaging her against the wall. He sucked gently on the tip of her chin, moving over her cheeks and along the bridge of her nose. He stopped with his lips only centimeters from hers, resting his forehead against her. He was breathing deeply when he opened his eyes, silently asking her permission to continue. She gazed back, lower lip trapped beneath her teeth.

It wasn't that she wasn't attracted to the Weasley twins. Their devilishly attractive rule breaker attitudes had always been a bit of a soft spot; if her friendship with Harry and Ron, the century's largest trouble magnets, was any indication, rule breaking gave her a bit of a thrill. She was expected to be so prim and proper the rest of the time; the opportunity to do anything even a bit messy was exhilarating to the bookworm. That thrilling feeling was partly why she had declined Molly Weasley's offer to move into the Burrow, opting instead to take Remus and Sirius's somewhat joke offer to move in with them.

Fred and George were the epitome of messy disregard for the rules, and it didn't help that their fiery hair hung low over brilliantly blue eyes or that their snug denim sat perfectly on slim hips – between her attractive marauder flat mates and pranking Weasley suitors, it was a wonder she didn't perpetually exist as a quivering puddle on the floor.

She was attracted. She fully admitted that – to herself, at least. But she was Hermione Granger, and she didn't do relationships – especially relationships with men in her personal group of friends. After the disaster that was Ron, she only wanted to focus on her career, building her funds, assuring she would be comfortable in her retirement, and then, maybe, find someone nice to settle down with. She had the occasional one night fling, sure, but she made sure even those remained detached from her well fit life; no second encounters was her number one rule. She wasn't sure if she could keep up her act, but she was terrified of the consequences – the Weasley brothers hit far too close to home to walk away from in the morning without repercussion.

She must have hesitated too long. Fred sighed, his breath blowing an errant curl off her cheek. "You don't have to do anything, Hermione. We'll back off if you really want."

She opened her mouth to respond, but her voice was stuck stubbornly in her throat. She closed her eyes and paused, reaching deep within for her Gryffindor courage to give the answer she really, secretly, longed to give. She shook her head slightly from side to side before croaking, "Don't stop."

Fred studied her for a few moments, looking for any sort of hesitation in her eyes; she met him with a fierce glare of her own, and, deciding he had taken far too long to react to her positive declaration, leaned her chin up and met his lips. Just like their first impromptu kiss, Fred exploded with passion. His lips slanted possessively over hers, his tongue plundering into her mouth to learn the contours of her gums and the smoothness of her teeth. He had her pushed so hard against the wall, she was sure she wouldn't be able to breath; but, then, she wasn't sure she needed to.

Either he had been exceptionally quiet in his movements or Hermione had been so enraptured she didn't notice anything past the sinful lips pulling on her own, but she was taken completely by surprise when someone behind the pair cleared their voice.

"You know, it was awfully rude of you, Granger, to lead one of us on with that little dress of yours and not the other."

Hermione's eyes shot open; George was leaning casually against the banister of the staircase, arms crossed loosely over his chest and an evil little smirk twisted over his lips. She opened her mouth to respond, to deny his accusations, but his twin suddenly latched onto her earlobe and the only sound she could pull from her lips was a strangled sort of squeak.

"He's joking, love," Fred whispered against her ear.

"When you said we should follow, I figured we would at least try the door, brother dearest."

"Floo was faster. She had no choice in letting me in that way," Fred growled, amusement clear in his deep voice.

"Ah, silly me, attempting to be polite," George responded with a grin. He remained leaning against the banister, enjoying his stroll down Voyeurism Lane. "I see you finally admitted it was a waste of effort on your part to keep refusing, Granger."

Fred chuckled. "Stubborn little witch."

George finally pushed himself up and sauntered over to the pair, with an exaggerated clearing of his throat, he tapped his twin on the shoulder. Fred spun himself and Hermione around in a move so graceful it caught her by surprise, and she stumbled. Fred, however, leaned back into the wall and caught her before she fell, pulling her bum snuggly against him and latching on to her exposed shoulder again. She couldn't help wondering if they had done this before, they strangely synchronized way they moved. George fixed her with an amused grin, stepping into her space and trailing a finger over her jaw.

"Hello, beautiful," he sighed over her lips before leaning all the way to capture them.

For all the similarities in their lives, the two boys could not have kissed more differently. Fred was rough and needy, working her nerves into frenzy in a manner of seconds. George was leisurely, and the most awful tease, pulling gently across her lips and, just as she thought he was going to give in and snog her passionately, darting away to trail kisses up her nose and cheekbones. He repeated himself, his tongue snaking in to the twine alluringly around hers until she was panting in her efforts to keep her heart from exploding. A pitiful sort of whine escaped her.

On George's next pull away from her to travel over the skin of the shoulder Fred wasn't already paying thorough attention to, she dislodged her voice and gasped shakily, "Bed."

Fred chuckled in her ear. "Insistent thing."

George laughed softly as well. "Where to, love?"

"Remus's room," she gasped, gesturing toward the closest room. "He's on this floor." The third floor seemed much too far. She wrenched herself out of their grasp and stumbled up the last steps to fumble with the handle to the nearest door. "I'll count this as payback for letting you two into the house without telling me."

"Actually, love," George said, grazing his lips over the wrist he had grabbed as he caught up to her, "that was Sirius's doing. Remus just let us know you had left."

She smirked back at him devilishly, the desperate, aroused looks they both wore emboldening her – she was Hermione Granger, _dammit!_, and she always excelled when she put her mind to something! "We'll just have to pay him back for that later, then, won't we?"

Finally opening the door and stumbling over the threshold, it was as if they were only continuing their unfinished business from the engagement party – within an instant, George stepped behind her and pulled her to him, running his hands from the bare expanse of her shoulders, down her sides and coming back to rest on her flat stomach; Fred had his leg between hers again, pressing intimately into her front. His lips touched down on hers, immediately beginning a well-known dance as his tongue slipped out to wrestle with hers. George's hands were moving again, this time finding the clasp on her dress and then the zipper, drawing it downward. Still sandwiched against his brother, her dress stayed put, but George was content to slip his hands through the now loose garment, running his fingers along her bare skin. Hermione hissed against Fred's lips, throwing her head back onto his brother's shoulder and breaking the kiss.

Fred stepped away for only a moment to allow the material of her dress to puddle around her feet. He was then kissing her neck, down her collarbone, over the swell of her breasts and through the valley between. George's fingers dug gently into her hips as he pressed against her backside, and Hermione felt the length of a well-endowed man nestle between her clothed cheeks. He tilted her head to place an agonizingly gentle kiss on her lips that had her whining again for more as Fred continued to tease down the front of her body.

She found a moment of clarity to sneak a hand behind her to find the pocket of George's trousers; she slipped a hand inside, finding a smooth wand that felt more pliant than her own. She removed it from his pocket and with a silent _Tolle Vestem_, she could feel hot skin against her back rather than comfortable cotton. George chuckled in her ear, and Fred took a moment to look over his nakedness before shooting her an amused grin; she quickly discarded the wand on top of her abandoned dress.

George's fingers moved again, ghosting over top of her breasts, bringing her dusky nipples to full prominence in the cool room. He tweaked each of them gently, swallowing her moans as his lips descended on hers again.

Fred wasted no time in attaching his lips to one of her rosy peaks, relishing the noises Hermione made as his tongue swirled circles around one tit while George's fingers worked over the other, his other hand learning the soft contours of her bum. Fred drew another pattern with his tongue, circling her areola and thoroughly wetting the area before blowing cool puffs of air against the dusky area; she squirmed in satisfaction under him, mewling into George's neck as he nibbled over her clavicle. Fred made certain to leave each nipple agonizingly wet before he continued his path down her body, tracing over the curves under her breast, over her flat stomach, and over the top of panties that she now wondered why anyone ever bothered to wear – what a hindrance.

Picking up on her increasingly frustrated moans, Fred grinned as he hooked his fingers into her panties and slid them down well-toned legs, dropping to his knees as they went. They settled on to the shoes she had yet to remove, but he hadn't noticed; he had stopped paying them attention the moment her curly thatch was bared for him. A light smattering of curls was the only thing barring him from her lower lips, so he leaned into her, dragging his nose over the 'v' of her thighs, taking in her smell with a low groan. Above him, she mewled cutely.

Applying light pressure on her thighs, he parted her legs, tracing over her hips with light pressure from his thumbs. She pushed her hips forward slightly, gasping again as his fingers traced trails over every part of her but the one place she positively needed for him to be. When he finally dragged his tongue over the entire length of her dripping cunt, she thought she might come undone completely; her knees shook with the effort to keep standing, but George only held her tighter to him. He chuckled deeply against her ear and again rolled her nipples with his fingers.

"You've such gorgeous tits, Hermione." His voice was slow, husky, and positively electrifying. "Perfectly round and so firm. You're pussy must be beautiful, too; he's positively enraptured by it." Beneath her, Fred circled her clit with his tongue; she let out a surprised cry of enjoyment. "You like that, my little vixen, don't you? – his tongue fucking in and out of your pretty pussy?"

Hermione gasped again. George Weasley was the last person on the planet she ever expected would be whispering forbidden words against her ear; it was so dirty; so wrong; so _messy._ He was chuckling again. "I can't wait to fuck you later, Hermione. I can't wait to be inside you." Hermione moaned, turning her face into his shoulder in search of relief. He took hold of each tit and pulled until she thought he might hurt her, but he released them suddenly, and the mixed feelings of pleasure and pain shot straight through her belly. "Do you like that? I want to hear you say it, Hermione."

"Yes," she hissed between her teeth. "Feels so good. Don't stop."

Between her legs, Fred suddenly latched onto her clit, suckling gently and nibbling occasionally against her pearl; George's words became confused, whispered nothings as she toed the brink of orgasm, holding on and trying to push herself over at the same time. He teased her entrance with his fingers, pumping in and out of her slowly up to his first knuckle, timing his strokes with his tongue. When her moans and pants increased erratically, he finally plunged his fingers all the way into her hot core; with a surprised scream, she tumbled head first into the abyss, her walls clenching around his fingers as sweet come rushed over his chin.

She had only just come down from her high when hands were turning her, and George was again teasing against her lips with his, working her into that strange, anxious frenzy. She felt Fred behind her return to his full height, and they were suddenly moving toward the bed. Still not having full control over her quivering legs, she tumbled gracelessly on top of George. Fred climbed after them, his fingers digging into her sides in a rough massage.

When she finally regained her senses enough to return George's kisses, he shifted beneath her, crawling out from under her to sit, leaning against the headboard. She tried to follow, but Fred's hand splayed against her lower back kept her spine bowed as she sat on her hands and knees. She turned to look at him, and he gave her a surprisingly gentle smile, reaching forward to brush a wandering curl from her forehead. "Trust us?"

Hermione didn't have to think about her answer as she nodded; she had already caught on to what they were asking of her (she wasn't the brightest witch of her age for nothing), and after the mind shattering orgasm they had provided her with, she was happy and ready to oblige. She threw him a smirk and wiggled her bum daringly in the air; he smacked her lightly as she turned back to his brother.

Finding his gaze and not blinking, Hermione lowered herself until her eyes were aligned with the impressive dick standing erect against George's belly. Leaning forward, she breathed deeply through her nose, taking in the scent that was purely masculine; she ran her nose from base to tip, readying and excited to lick his weeping crown when something blunt rubbed against her wet entrance. She surged forward with a gasp, digging nails into George's thighs as Fred slowly eased into her. When she adjusted to the length of him, she rocked backward gently against his hips, and he took the hint to begin a slow drive in and out.

She found George's eyes once more and returned to her previous administrations, her pink tongue darting out to catch his falling pre-come; when she captured the head between her lips, directing it into the hot cavern under her tongue, George groaned loudly, his eyes snapping shut as he threaded a hand through her curls.

Swirling her tongue around, she lowered slowly and took his length as far as she could manage. When he bumped the back of her throat, she used her hand to cover the rest of him and slowly withdrew, sucking a bit harder at the tip. His thigh twitched beneath her free hand, and she repeated the action again, slowly moving her hand in synch with her lips. The pressure of his hand in her hair increased, and she repeated her actions to moans of approval.

Behind her, Fred was building his pace as he surged into her. He was slamming forward harder now, and she couldn't help but to pull her mouth up and down George's shaft in time with Fred's thrusts. It took so little time to work her back into a state of teetering arousal, she nearly screamed in surprised when a petite orgasm washed over, as if acting as a precursor to what was surely to come. She alternated in moaning deeply around George, the vibrations sending electric sparks shooting down his spine, and tightening all of her lower muscles around Fred as he pulled out of her, the sensations causing him to jerk erratically over her body.

Soon, each twin was grasping for some free bit of her skin, holding on tightly as they surged in and out of her with matching groans. Fred curled over against her spine, holding tightly around her abdomen and panting into her neck, slamming hard against her; a string of nonsensical expletives drifted around her ear and warm fluid was suddenly shooting into her. His spasmodic explosion within her body tightened muscles she didn't even know she had, and with a cry, she was falling over, too, her pussy clamping tightly around him. Just as her body stopped quaking with such powerful force, the hand in her hair pulled again, and George was following them over the edge with one more jerk of his hips; hot come shot across her palate, and she greedily drank all of his salty release before collapsing on top of his thigh, Fred already having collapsed against her spine.

There was a minute of uninterrupted silence between them, the only sounds rasping from their lungs as they each fought to catch their breath. Eventually, Fred found the strength to crawl up the mattress, pulling Hermione along with him. They collapsed again on the pillows as George shimmied down to meet them. Hermione gave a contented sigh, throwing a leg over George's and interlacing with Fred's fingers against her belly.

"Remind me again what your objections were to this, love?" Fred purred in her ear.

"My judgment must have been impaired by Blibbering Humdingers," she answered with a Luna-ism and a shrug.

The deep chuckles they exchanged thrummed through her excited body, and her still-hot core gave an unexpected throb in appreciation and readiness for more. The devious smirk that twisted across her lips would have made either twin nervous had their eyes been open to see it. She extracted her hand from Fred's under pretense of stretching her fingers. With an innocent sigh, she rubbed her bum enticingly against Fred and used her now-free fingers to trail patterns up and down George's flaccid member.

"If memory serves, there's more payback that needs to be dished out, if you're willing to trek up a flight of stairs."

Fred's fingers found purchase holding tightly to her upper thigh; George's hips jerked upward slightly, and he hummed as if contemplating her offer. "Do we have to walk?"

"And waste those precious ten seconds? – Of course not." She raised an arm lazily and summoned her wand to her. She winked at George. "Don't flinch, boys."

**~XxxxxxxxxxxX~**

They Apparated away in a swirl of skin, landing in a mess of limbs on top of Sirius's silken sheets. Fred snuggled appreciatively into her curls. "Tricky witch. You know you've left our clothes in Lupin's room, though, right?"

She only smirked. "Just a nudge in the right direction in case he doesn't immediately spot our payback."

George kissed the tip of her nose. "You, my dear, are more devious than we ever gave you credit for."

She grasped each of their slowly hardening erections with her hands and gave a gentle twist upward. She continued her light stroking, willing each of her partners back to prominence once more. Twin groans of surprise and pleasure responded to her actions, and she laughed gently. "And to think, you thought I was getting in over my head. I'm much more concerned about your stamina than mine."

Fred groaned again and nuzzled further into her curls. He echoed his brother's earlier sentiments: "Far more devious."


End file.
